


as close to you as i can get

by chaosy



Series: texts from last night [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Kind of porny, M/M, the werewolf thing is still a thing though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 19:43:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2037603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosy/pseuds/chaosy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(925): we hooked up on one of my students' desks last night... i can't decide if i'm ashamed or massively proud of myself</p>
<p>(707): dude you teach first grade wtf</p>
            </blockquote>





	as close to you as i can get

**Author's Note:**

> find me and say hi at martinisms.tumblr.com :)

The thing about elementary school is that it's supposed to be  _ fun _ . The pupils are relaxed and carefree, they don't have major exams, and it's basically a few years of glitter and rudimentary science projects until they go to middle school. There's supposed to be no stress.

But then, of course, there's parents' night. 

_ Fucking  _ parents' night.

The kids can be little monsters, Stiles knows, but the parents are always a thousand times worse. God, who thought it would be a good idea to let these people have a  _ kid _ ? 

He's already gotten in trouble for sassing parents. He just can't help it. How else is he supposed to respond to “we're sending Johnny to Yale when he's older” with anything other than “ma'am, your son is six”? The parents are fucking impossible, either thinking that their kid is the next Da Vinci or desperately trying to make them so. Stiles hates it.

There are, however, some rare gems of kids who are perfectly sweet and well-behaved and have awesome parents, too. Like Cathy Hale.

Cathy is six, the youngest in her class. Stiles can tell she's a werewolf because her eyes flickered gold briefly on the playground when she was pissed off with some other little tyke. He managed to pass it off as a trick of the light, but still, close call. He hasn't figured out how to tell her mom yet.

Her  _ mom _ , Jesus Christ. Laura is sharp, funny, has a PhD in astrophysics and is so gorgeous that she kind of knocks Stiles over whenever she comes to collect her daughter. Cathy's aunt Cora came to pick her up one time, and Stiles is kind of intimidated by the fact that the entire family is beautiful. He can even tell that Cathy is going to be a looker with those pretty eyes, the soft dark curls and her big smile. His heart pretty much melts whenever she shows him a new drawing or sloppily made collage.

So he has favourites. Sue him.

At seven o'clock, he's really ready to go home and eat takeout in front of House of Cards, but parents' night has other plans for him. He finishes up with a vegan couple who don't know that their son swaps his celery sticks for chocolate buttons at lunch when Cathy comes in. Parent-less.

“Hey, Cathy, where's your mommy?” he asks her, pointing to the seat in front of his desk. She's his last pupil of the night, thank god. Always nice to end on a good note.

Cathy shrugs, her little feet swinging. “She's got a meeting. My uncle was supposed to come. I don't know when he is.”

As if on cue, a guy appears in the doorway and Stiles has look  _ very interested  _ in the bits and pieces of Cathy's work in front of him because holy hell, this guy is hot.

It's not even that kind of hot that can be ignored. It's  _ offensively  _ hot, ridiculously hot, touch-him-and-you'll-burn-yourself hot. Stiles wants to lick him, everywhere. The guy has nicely groomed stubble and his mind goes instantly to what it would feel like on his thighs.

Stiles is a terrible teacher.

“Cathy, honey, I'm so sorry I'm late,” the guy apologises, and he sounds sincere and doesn't even try to buy her forgiveness with food, so Stiles likes it. Cathy doesn't seem to mind too much. She launches into hot guy's arms and hugs him tight and Stiles feels like a very, very bad person for how attractive the image of the hot guy and the cute kid is.

“It's okay, uncle Derek. Mommy said that if you're late then no pizza, though,” Cathy says. Uncle Derek looks at her with mock horror.

“Oh  _ no _ ,” he says. “A tragedy! I suppose it's a fitting punishment for keeping you waiting,” he says, and Cathy giggles.

Stiles just stares at him. “You sound way too cheerful for missing out on pizza,” he tells him. Derek looks at him and Stiles doesn't miss the way his eyes flick down to his neck, and over his arms. It's one of the rare evenings that he has to wear a shirt and slacks, and whilst he doesn't look  _ amazing  _ he's at least cleaned the glitter out of his hair. Derek seems to appreciate it, judging by how he's kind of ogling him. Stiles lets his smile curve a little wider.

“Cora always sneaks me a piece afterwards,” he explains. Stiles nods.

“Glad to hear. No one should miss out on pizza. Shall we get started?” he asks, and Cathy suddenly looks excited. She should be. She's done good work this year and Stiles genuinely loves teaching her. 

He spreads out her work across the desk, point at this and that to Derek, explaining the projects they've done and how well Cathy's doing. Derek is adorably invested. He ruffles Cathy's hair when Stiles mentions something good she's done and takes a load of pictures of the work with his phone, since Stiles keeps the better pieces until the end of the year when they can have a big show of all the kids' work.

“Got any kids yourself?” he asks Derek as Cathy packs up her stuff. 

Derek shakes his head. “No. Maybe one day, I'm not sure. I want to finish my doctorate first.”

The guy is hot, good with kids, and  _ smart _ . Stiles is melting. He's also grateful for the desk in front of them, unless,  _ shit _ . He wonders and hopes that not all the Hales are werewolves because if Derek can smell the arousal that Stiles is putting out, that'll be embarrassing.

Derek's nostrils twitch and Stiles thinks  _ oh, fuck _ .

“I wanted to talk to you about an incident with Cathy, though, just before we finish,” he says and Derek frowns, looking adorably worried.

“Did she get into trouble? She's generally such a good girl,” Derek worries.

Stiles refrains from cooing. Only just. “No, no, she-- uh. I'm not sure how to put it. She's a great girl, she just--”

“Has she been acting out?”

“No, not at all. She got into an argument with another boy in my class--”

“Did she hurt him? Christ, I'm so sorry, she's always been an active girl.”

Stiles sighs, puts his hands over his face and says, “Sir, your niece is a werewolf.”

There's a brief, pregnant pause.

“Ah,” Derek says, flushing. Cathy looks down at her feet.

“Sorry, Uncle Derek,” she mumbles. “I couldn't keep the secret. Mr Stilinski saw my eyes.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, no, Cathy, you don't need to worry,” he tells her, trying to soothe them both down. Derek looks like he's going to jump out the window and Cathy looks like she might follow him. “I knew because I saw your eyes. My best friend is an Alpha. I'm from the McCall pack,” he says, brightly.

Derek's eyes go wide. “Did you say the McCall pack?” he sputters. Stiles grins at him. “Jesus Christ, my mom has been talking about you guys for  _ months _ , she really wants to meet with your Alpha. Is it true about the whole-- with the Alpha Pack, is that--”

Stiles laughs and nods and feels stupidly, stupidly proud. “Yeah, dude. That was a crazy Thanksgiving. I'll tell Scott to get in touch with your mom, if you like.”

Derek mirrors his smile, genuinely grins at him. Stiles is a little bowled over by the sheer brightness of it. The leather jacket and stubble make him look kind of broody but  _ holy shit  _ his smile is attractive.

Yet again, he's grateful for the desk in front of him.

Derek takes a pointed sniff, raises an eyebrow at him and his smile is a little devastating. “We should go,” he says, apologetically. “C'mon, Cathy, pizza awaits.”

Stiles shakes both of their hands and he feels Derek's fingers brush over his wrist. He tries to hide his shiver and by the look on Derek's face, he fails miserably. 

He sits down and thinks to himself,  _ hot people should not be allowed. _

–

About half an hour later, he has his coat on, his classroom tidy and he's ready to ignore his responsibilities until Sunday night until someone has the audacity to knock on his door.

He huffs, throws his coat off in a sulk and he  _ bets  _ that it's Amy Leon's parents, those fuckers are always late for everything, Jesus, why the hell is he still here when he could be eating Chinese food at--

“I left my phone here.”

Derek is standing sheepishly in the doorway. The janitor is behind him, gives Stiles a little thumbs up before carrying on his way. Stiles doesn't actually reply for a couple of moments because he's too busy staring. He needs at least a five minute warning before being attacked by Derek Hale's hotness.

“Uh,” he manages to say, and shuffles back to let Derek inside and shuts the door. “Really?” He hasn't seen a phone anywhere, not on the desks or chairs.

Derek's smile grows wider. “No.”

And then he's being kissed.

Derek is a  _ phenomenal _ kisser. Stiles figured he wasn't too bad but Derek is putting him to shame. His mouth is soft and wet and  _ hot  _ and Stiles can't help but moan a little bit, staggering backwards.

Derek catches him around the waist with his arm, his hand sliding over the small of Stiles's back. Stiles cups his face and lets his teeth scrape over Derek's lower lip. He's utterly delighted when it provokes Derek to  _ whine _ , and he feels hands tighten on him and okay, he's doing this, this is happening.

“Do you have a name?” Derek murmurs against his mouth, turning his head and biting lightly at the hinge of his jaw. Stiles shudders. “Or would you prefer it if I called you Mr. Stilinski?”

Stiles is embarrassed about the noise he makes in response to that. He'll table that discussion for never.

“Stiles,” he breathes out. “My name is Stiles.

And then he's  _ not  _ being kissed. Fucking rude.

Derek leans back a little but his hands are still smoothing over Stiles's sides, so that's a success. “Your parents have an interesting sense of humour.  _ Stiles Stilinski _ ?”

Stiles, without thinking, gives him a light slap in the side. “Shut up, okay, it's a nickname, and I bet you have some ridiculous middle name like  _ Walter  _ or  _ Alastair _ .”

Derek chuckles, veers back in to kiss his neck. “Sebastian, actually.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“I wouldn't be averse to that.”

Stiles chokes a little.

He kisses Derek again distractedly as he looks around himself. There's a lot of glitter and poster paint. “I don't, uh. I don't have anything,” he says. He has no idea why he's embarrassed about not having lube and condoms in a first grade classroom but, hey, there you go. 

Derek just laughs. He drags him in and Stiles soon forgets about pretty much everything. He flicks open a button clumsily on his shirt and Derek just goes for it, nudging his hand out of the way as he replaces it with his mouth. Stiles can feel his tongue rasping against the skin of his collarbone and then  _ teeth _ and there's going to be a fucking bruise, seriously, fucking hell.

They don't manage to really move. They sort of grapple in the middle of the room, the kisses getting deeper and slicker. Stiles isn't aware that he's grinding up against Derek's thigh until Derek pushes him against one of the desks and Stiles can feel his dick through his jeans. He presses his hand against it, palming at him through the denim and Derek kisses him  _ harder _ . It's good. It's really fucking good.

Since Derek's kind of distracted by the kissing, Stiles gets his hands free and uses them to flip open his belt. His slacks give him some room but Derek has those criminally tight jeans on. They make his ass look  _ fantastic  _ but Stiles really wants to get his hands on skin. He also knows that too-tight jeans and boners are not a good mix. He slips his hand into Derek's underwear and grins at the punched-out nose that Derek makes, feeling his mouth open against his neck as he pants a little. Stiles leans into it and curls his hand properly around his cock, jerking him off nice and slow, his thumb smoothing over the head.

Derek groans. It sounds kind of like pizza tastes.

Stiles is eternally grateful for the desk because he has a strong feeling that he's going to fall over. He can't even remember what student it is; he'll disinfect it before they come in.

“Stop thinking,” Derek says, at around the same time he squeezes Stiles's cock through his slacks.

Stiles stops thinking.

It gets kind of messy from there. Derek breaths heavily against his neck and gives him a downright nasty hickey on his collarbone. Stiles jerks him off and tries and fails to keep a steady pace. Derek doesn't particularly seem to mind, judging by the way his hips thrust minutely into it.

Stiles feels absolutely no shame in twisting them around, pushing Derek against the desk. A couple of glitter pens drop to the floor. So does Stiles. He tugs Derek's crazy jeans down as far as he can whilst being lazy and pulls his cock out of his underwear, sucking the head into his mouth. Derek's reaction is fucking  _ beautiful _ ; he gives this perfect, shuddery gasp, his head falls back and he rolls his hips gently into Stiles's mouth but Stiles can totally see that he's doing his best not to be too harsh. It's almost gentlemanly.

Eventually a hand settles in his hair and Stiles purrs, leans into it as he eases Derek most of the way into his mouth. He's slightly ashamed of just how much practice he had at giving head whilst he was in college, but it really comes in handy.

It's turning him on, doing this to Derek, More so than it would some random hookup. He groans quietly as he sucks and Derek hisses quietly through his teeth, his fingers twisting in Stiles's hair and he  _ pulls _ and hell yes, Stiles is so into that. The tug on his hair sends a sharp bolt of pleasure down his spine and he sucks Derek harder, hollowing his cheeks and slipping a hand up his shirt. Derek's abs feel fucking fantastic.

“Stiles.  _ Stiles _ . I'm--”

Stiles doesn't even pull off. He taps Derek's hips gently before trailing his finger over his balls, swiping over his perineum. The moment he presses it against his hole, Derek comes like a shot.

He swallows, which is a rare thing. It's the consistency that puts him off but there's just something about Derek and Stiles sucks him down almost greedily, bobbing his head for the aftershocks and Derek is such a beautiful hot mess above him that he feels a little lightheaded.

Eventually he's being eased up onto his feet and Derek is kissing the ever loving fuck out of him. He runs his hand over his arms, grips them tight when Derek  _ finally _ gets a hand on his cock. He whines softly against his mouth and Derek, the bastard, chuckles, nipping his lower lip. He tilts his head so he can press his mouth to the hickey again and that's it, Stiles is done. It's a few seconds of pure, blank pleasure and then he comes all over Derek's hand, panting quietly against his mouth. 

They stay like that a while. Derek huffs a laugh against his lips, presses a kiss to his cheek and cleans them up with tissue in his pocket. “Thanks,” Stiles rasps. Derek just kisses him again.

“You good?” he asks.

Stiles nods. “Mm. I'm great. Feel kind of bad that we just hooked up on one of my students' desks,” he mutters, swiping a hand through his hair as he tidies himself up. He feels kind of awkward, embarrassed. “I, uh. I don't really do this.”

Derek just smiles, looking sweetly shy. Stiles can't help but kiss the blush on his cheeks until it deepens.

“Me either,” Derek says, and his fingers dance over Stiles's waist. “But I was hoping that we could do this again. After I buy you dinner. Yeah?”

Stiles feels something warm and bright expand in his stomach. He nods.

“Yeah.”

 


End file.
